


get a little crazy (just for fun)

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Banter, Birthday Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Dirty Talk, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Kink, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all supposed to be a joke—or so the blond had thought—that is, until he laid eyes on one of the 'workers' at the bar. After that, well, things were certainly in perspective.</p><p>Otherwise known as: the best birthday present ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	get a little crazy (just for fun)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hungrywolfeasyprey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungrywolfeasyprey/gifts).



> Hiya there folks ! Someone commented about more smut, so here I am. The smut fairy. ;) 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own the song Ai Ai Ai Ui Ui by Os Hawaianos !! I just took creative liberties. :p

(( to get a feel for the dance sequence, i would recommend watching this: [clicky here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgflJezUEKk&list=LLCNEkYD3pz3QebnSrW7ASqQ&index=2) starts at 0:46, so just skip ))

* * *

  
It started off as a joke, or so the blond thought.  
  
Tonight was the night of his twenty-first birthday and a few weeks prior, his friends—read as: those  _assholes_ —had joked around about taking him to a gay strip club to celebrate. So when his friends had cornered him as soon as he exited his flat to place a satin blindfold to shield his eyes to prevent him from being aware of his surroundings, he was certain something was up.  
  
He assumed the group had been kidding but there he is at the bar with a tall glass of Jägermeister resting in front of him. Pale elbows are pressed onto the smooth yet slightly damp counter-top and his head is in his hands. Those bastards had abandoned him alone at the bar in favor of going to find seats near the center stage where a show was said to start in less than fifteen minutes.  
  
But there Marc is contemplating his friendships and life decisions, barely startling when someone plops down beside him. How would he explain this to his mother when he would inevitably be asked about what had occurred? One of his eyes twitches and he heaves another groan as he reaches for the slender glass to take another swig.  
  
"You should probably slow down there. Questioning the meaning of life while drinking isn't fun anyway, that sort of defeats the purpose of it being enjoyable. Don't you think?"  
  
Once more he winces at the words and reluctantly sets the glass down with a ' _ **clink!**_ '' before he glances at the patron that sits beside him, the entirety of the latter's form facing directly toward him. There's a devious twinkle in his chocolate eyes and he can tell the stranger was amused by the twitch at the corners of his lips.  
  
Marc feels his mouth go dry when he finally takes a moment to take the latter in and—and okay, yeah, he was sort of gorgeous with perfectly tanned skin and a warm voice that certainly sent shivers down the length of the German's spine. Nervous chuckles spill from the blond, for lack of anything better to do, and he shifts to face the latter with a bashful smile of his own.  
  
"This isn't how I honestly expected to celebrate my birthday, it was only supposed to be a joke. This," hands motion towards the surrounding area; lights toned down until forms are faintly visible—the only bright multi-colored lights pointing towards the different stages,—with music that wasn't in his taste but it was enjoyable nonetheless. "This was supposed to be a joke."  
  
The stranger's nose crinkles at that but he quickly rights himself with a smile, "I wish my friends would prank me at a place like this. It's pretty nice once you find the right person to mingle with, yeah?"  
  
And okay, yeah. The stranger is shirtless with a perfect set of abs that are lightly oiled and when he trails his eyes lower, he finds the stranger in a pair of tiny, black shorts with a bow on them that fits him like a second skin and—And he gulps. That left nothing to the imagination, the way it outlines his package and adds emphasis to the area.  
  
"Uh—.. I, yeah. Yeah, I guess that's true. I'm Marc, by the way." Said male extends a hand towards the latter and the brunet takes it and offers it a firm shake, fingers brushing along the skin of his palm when he retracts it.  
  
"Finally a name to the face, you can guarantee I won't forget it." Attractive nameless stranger winks playfully and he reaches forward to steal the drink in front of the blond, gulping it all down in one go. "So tell me, Marquinho, how are you enjoying the club so far?"  
  
Marc wets his lips with his tongue and scratches awkwardly at the back of his head, "It's actually kind of nice now that I think about it." Cerulean hues search for chocolate and the two meet; his skin suddenly feels sticky and fervent and he runs his fingers through his neatly trimmed hair for purchase.  
  
"Yeah? That's what I was hoping you'd say. So, what's your deal, Marc?" Tanned and handsome queries with a quirked brow as he leans an elbow onto the table, resting his cheek in his palm.  
  
"I don't know what you me—.."  
  
"You're either swinging both ways or swinging my way—pun-intended, not that I would mind that."  
  
Cheeks flush considerably at the compliment and fingers fumble to tug at the collar of his button-up; was the temperature rising or was the stranger becoming increasingly more attractive as the seconds ticked by? "I—I've never.." That smug smirk that the latter is wearing is far too distracting and he wishes he could just kiss it off. "I haven't been with a guy, at least not yet."  
  
The man clicks his tongue in what is akin to disappointment, the brunet shaking his head in disapproval. "Would you like to?" He leans across the counter and tilts his head slightly, his nose bumping into Marc's, the smug smirk returning as he breathes softly: "Tonight could be your lucky night. Birthday sex is always nice.. No better way to celebrate, yeah?"  
  
Another deep gulp. A sharp inhale. Lips part slightly and he instinctively leans forward, but he meets nothing but air. Blink, blink. "You can't just say that then—then not.."  
  
But the stranger only narrows his eyes slightly as he looks the blond up and down, then shifts on his heel. "Work first, pleasure later. Isn't that how it usually works, Marquinho? Happy birthday, by the way." With that he saunters away with a suggestive wink cast over his shoulder.  
  
The blond recollects the day his friends told him that they suspected he was gay and he vehemently denied it, but now he is questioning that too as he watches the male saunter away. Those little shorts fit snugly around his firm ass and the blond finds himself trailing upward to find muscle that flex with each movement and—he has it deep for a strange whose name he doesn't even know.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
More on their own accord, his denim-clad legs work to move through the throng of people making their way towards the stage. Murmured apologies were barely audible as he squeezes past bodies, hands clenching into fists when the form disappears. Cerulean eyes glance towards the ceiling and he pleas with a higher power that he would somehow bump into the male again; perhaps he would ask for his name and then his number?  
  
Of course, a proper date was in order too, if the sultry yet evasive man was into it.  
  
Hands are abruptly on his shoulders then and he turns on his heel with a relieved grin only to groan at the sight of one of his friends, "One second you're at the bar and the next you're running off. What the hell is up with you, man? It's your birthday, you're supposed to be having fun, not running away the second we stop babysitting you."  
  
"Oh, no. Me? Running away? No, man, I was just trying to find the bathroom? Yeah, isn't it this way?" He points towards the general vicinity of a set of double-doors with decorated sequins and other added flare there.  
  
Geri only rolls his eyes and nods his head in the direction to where the rest of their little group is located at the front of the stage, "Can you read, Ter? I know you haven't been in Barcelona long but 'Vestidor' means 'dressing room,' in Catalan." Brows furrow at that but before he can process it thoroughly, the bulky male is shoving him in the right direction. "C'mon. You're gonna miss the show and we can't have that."  
  
"That can't be right.."  
  
Alas the blond plops down in between Gerard and Bartra—fun fact: also named Marc—and decides that, yeah, maybe he really did need to revel in the experience instead of dwelling on the fact that he had potentially lost the sexiest man he had ever laid eyes on in a matter of minutes. There was no way that man was a stripper, not with the looks of a Gucci model.  
  
Speakers fizzle to life and the sound of a voice over a microphone is heard, though it's rattled with static and hard to understand: "Now, what all you sexy men out there have been waiting for, our number act. Also known as: The Brazukas. Show these Brazilian babes some love."  
  
Upbeat music suddenly blasts over the litany of speakers surrounding the center stage and the spotlight rests upon five separate bodies. One thing they all seemed to have in common is a variety of tattoos that are scattered across their toned bodies, but Marc doesn't stare too long at anyone other than his unknown stranger.  
  
**♫ ♩** _Ai ai ai ai ui ui ui_  
_Ai ai ai ai ui ui ui_  
_Ai ai ai ai ui ui ui_  
  
_Novinha tu me seduz_   **♫ ♩**  
  
Instead of purely sexual, like what he had honestly been expecting, it's impressively choreographed and the men all seem to move in organized sync. Cerulean eyes hardly spare a glance towards the other dancers; his focus was too taken with the brunet who stares at him with a smug smirk, chocolate eyes gleaming with mischief.  
  
**♫ ♩** _É de baixo pra cima._  
_É de cima pra baixo._  
_Relaxa. Abre as pernas._  
_Calma, calma._  
_Que eu encaixo._ **♫ ♩**  
  
There's a lot of jumping and footwork involved as well as fluid hip thrusts that make the blond glance around for one of the bartenders carrying beer bottles on trays. Chocolate eyes never leave his even as he'd downing the beer in its entirety, too captivated with the way the male's body waves in tune with the beat, his russet hands trailing down the length of his bare abdomen.  
  
**♫ ♩** _É de baixo pra cima._  
_É de cima pra baixo._  
_Relaxa. Abre as pernas._  
_Calma, calma._  
_Que eu encaixo._ **♫ ♩**  
  
Once more the moves are repeated and the brunet doesn't stutter in his movements once as he swirls his hips but this time moving his hands all along the broadness of his chest. Legs bend slightly and he thrusts his hips while his feet move forward along with the motion until he's closer to the front of the stage.  
  
Closer to Marc more like it.  
  
**♫ ♩** _Ai ai ai ai ui ui ui_  
_Ai ai ai ai ui ui ui_  
_Ai ai ai ai ui ui ui_  
  
_Novinha tu me seduz_   **♫ ♩**  
  
Then his body is rolling in a backwards motion until his palm is flat upon the floor, his toned legs spread open as he moves them in a fluid, circular motion. One leg is bent at the knee while the other is out in front of him, one hand remains on the floor while the other goes behind his head, that devious smirk never once leaving his lips.  
  
Marc is barely prepared when he thrust his hips forward, and he swears he can spot a bulge in his tiny shorts but he doesn't want to seem obvious so he looks away. Through his peripheral he sees the brunet huff and he's already glancing back because he's obviously weak and unable to not look at the beautiful being that possesses the stage like its his own.  
  
Then the final verse comes back on and the brunet is mouthing the words directly to Marc and he isn't sure what the exact translation was but he could feel the fervent heat from the collar around his neck viciously licking at his neck. Those lips frame the words perfectly and—even though he hardly understood Portuguese—he knew for a fact that the lyrics were sexual.  
  
"É de baixo pra cima. É de cima pra baixo. Relaxa. Abre as pernas. Calma, calma. Que eu encaixo." Those plump lips caress the words as he breathes them and he finishes the last verse winding his hips in a circle and then rolling his back once more into a powerful thrust that leaves the blond gulping deeply.  
  
Thunderous applause and cheers erupt from all around him and he sees multi-colored euros being thrown haphazardly onto the stage, the men seemingly thrilled with the reaction as they scoop up the bills, even coming to the edge of the stage where patrons stuffed the paper bills into their shorts that are barely enough to stretch even to fit the thin paper.  
  
Instead of mimicking the others, however, his brunet only nods his head in the direction of the dressing room before disappearing through one of the doors on the side of the stage. Marc furrows his brows and turns to the brunet beside him, thrusting his beer to his friend: "Geri, I have to, uh—Do stuff. Things. I have—Never mind, I'll be back. Don't come looking for me, please?"  
  
But the brunet doesn't question it and instead offers an amused chuckle as he connects eyes with Bartra who only shrugs a halfhearted shoulder. "Have fun then, and be safe while you're at it."  
  
With a clap on the back and encouraging words from Bartra, he's meandering through the throng of bodies still swarming the stage and presses through the unlocked door of the dressing room. Once inside he glances around for any sign of the Brazilian but is ambushed the second he shifts on his heel to try one of the doors.  
  
Russet hands are everywhere as they grip onto his button-up shirt to tug him into the dressing room simply named 'Marcos,' and is shoved back against the door once the two are successfully inside. Plump lips are abruptly on his then and ivory teeth are nipping eagerly at his lower lip, nimble fingers already working on the tiny buttons of his shirt.  
  
"Wait, wait—You never told me your—Mmpf.." Marc attempts but fails as he sighs into the kiss that feels like heaven for lack of better word, the kiss enough to send his mind whirling and bringing a familiar haze to his cerulean eyes. "Name.. I need your.. Fuck.. Tell me your name?"  
  
All he hears is a soft chuckle in response and plumps lips are peppering open-mouthed kisses from the corner of his mouth and down the length of his sculpted jaw, "Rafael.. Though I'd prefer you call me Rafinha.. Is that enough now to jumpstart this? I wanted you the second I saw you, and I knew you wanted me back. Am I correct?"  
  
"C-correto.."  
  
Rafinha halts his administrations upon his neck in favor of nipping playfully at the skin there, "Você fala português?" Despite the huskiness of his voice he sounds rather enthralled and slightly stunned before he returns to peppering kisses down the column of his throat, mouthing at his Adam's apple.  
  
"Eu, merda, sei um pouco..."  
  
"Abre as pernas," the male chuckles darkly as he pries open the remainder of the buttons, sending the beige colored fastenings flying to scatter across the dark floor. He trails backwards until his legs hit the back of the couch, ultimately splaying across it, and then pulls Marc along on top of him. Then his lips are at his ear and his legs are opening once more to accommodate the blond: "Que eu encaixo."  
  
"Cheeky." Marc utters in amusement as he runs his large, pale hands along the smooth expanse of the latter's thighs, digging his thumbs into the muscle there and kneading it.  
  
Rafinha arches his back slightly and leans upwards in an attempt to capture the blond's lips but he backs away leaving the brunet whimpering lowly in his throat. The blond only grins smugly, content with their current predicament, as he shrugs out of his destroyed button-up and tosses it nonchalantly to the floor. He reaches for the latter's wrists and splays the flat of his palm across his chest, the brunet only gazing at him in awe-filled lust as he glides the very tips of his fingers across the muscle of his abdomen.  
  
"You're the romantic type I gather," murmurs the brunet as he next reaches for the thin belt that is looped around the blond's waist and makes quick work of the fastenings until it's off. "But this isn't a romantic situation, I fear." Then without warning he rests his palm against the growing bulge in the blond's jeans, offering it a warm squeeze.  
  
Marc leans forward then to capture the brunet in a kiss, not once complaining about the fingers that pop the button on his jeans and then tug his zipper down. Nor does he complain when those same fingers forcefully tug his jeans along with his briefs down his thighs. And he definitely doesn't complain when a determined hand wraps around the base of his cock to offer another relieving squeeze, moving up and down the length of him in an experienced rhythm.  
  
The blond stutters in the momentum of the kiss and the sound of teeth clanking fills the otherwise quiet room, his pointed teeth scraping against the latter's tongue, which earns him a surprised sigh. He knows that he should relax and not tense up but he knows himself—knows his body, more like it—and he fears that he may cum early in their rendezvous because—because, fuck.  
  
Girls weren't as in-tune with his body like this beautiful brunet was, the male seeming to know just the way he liked to be touched, knowing to pay just the right amount of attention to the head, brushing his thumb along the tip, then smearing the dribbles of pre-cum along the length of his cock to use for makeshift lube.  
  
"Rafa.." Comes his breathy whisper as he murmurs between pecks, the latter's mouth not halting a moment as he continues to peck and nip at his lips until they're dark and reddened. "Feels so good.."  
  
That cheeky glint is present within dark irises as he stares at him, and he can almost hear the response he was about to make. "Always does when you're with a man," murmurs the brunet as he tightens his grip on his cock for a moment before maneuvering his idle hand to gently cup his balls, kneading them together with a hum. "Or maybe it's just because you're with me?"  
  
Marc growls low in his throat as he bucks his hips into the latter's awaiting fist, falling down onto his elbows, his forehead pressing into the man's cheek. And, fuck, it feels so good—too good—and if he doesn't stop him now, the two wouldn't be able to fully fulfill what was on the agenda. So the blond un-clenches his fingers from the couch cushion and swats the eager hand away in favor of leaning back onto his haunches, legs straddled on either side of the Brazilian's waist.  
  
There's a look of sheer disappointment in those dark irises as he stares up at the blond in bewilderment. Those plump lips are reddened and are bitten beyond belief, poked out into a little pout, and the blond can't restrain himself as he leans forward to press another tender kiss there, letting his lips linger for a moment, before pulling away once more.  
  
One of his hands goes to the side of the Brazilian's face to stroke the smooth skin there, then he goes to smooth down his disheveled locks. "Sorry, it's just—I didn't know it could feel this good, and—Fuck, if you would have kept touching me like that, I would have—and that wouldn't have been fun for you. You deserved to be touched, too." Marc finally splutters as he leans further away so he can tug those tiny shorts down the length of mocha-thighs.  
  
With every inch that is revealed, which is very little, he leaves kisses there. His tongue trails experimentally along the length of his rock hard cock and it twitches at the contact, russet hands going to the blond's hair to tug. "This can't be your first time.." Breathes the brunet, and the blond gauges that he enjoyed it and repeated the action, this time suckling on a pulsing vein there. "F-foda..."  
  
He pays extra attention to the head of his cock and licks teasingly at the tip, which earns him an arch of the hips and a low whimper, so he repeats the action again before sucking at the beads of pre-cum there. It's bitter and not the best tasting in the world, but he doesn't seem to mind, especially not when he has a responsive Rafinha tugging at his hair and pleading in low Portuguese for 'mais.'  
  
Eventually he abandons that in favor of finally tugging off the shorts in their entirety and discarding them neatly on the back of the couch, then repeats the same action with his briefs and jeans; he receives needy whimpers from Rafinha throughout the whole process and he chuckles to himself at his impatience.  
  
"Do you, uh, have any..?" Marc makes emphasized gestures with his hands, and the brunet only quirks a brow in response.  
  
"This isn't my first time with a guy," murmurs the Brazilian as he maneuvers beneath the blond in favor of shifting onto his stomach and eventually onto his knees, pressing back against Marc's cock, which makes him grunt lowly.  
  
"Just tell me if it hurts or something, that's not what I want.. Not for you."  
  
But the blond knows the basic mechanics of sex and, though he had never done it this way with a woman before, he knows that it's basically the same method. Cerulean eyes take a moment to gaze upon the delicious curve of his ass and how it's poked out, ready and waiting, and he has to stroke himself to relieve the pulsing sensations that radiate within his cock.  
  
Another second passes and the brunet is glancing over his shoulder with narrowed eyes, so the blond goes into action, guiding his cock towards the brunet's entrance and sliding in with one, fluid movement that buries him within the hilt. And—oh God, this is nothing like a girl. It's almost unbearably tight and the heat is that surrounds him is also enough to make him cum then and there.  
  
Rafinha, who seems to find the matter urgent, moves his hips forward and then back, eliciting a soft hiss at the friction. Then Marc gets the memo and starts moving his hips experimentally forward and back, the tightness seemingly relentless in its snug hold on his cock. But pale hands find the latter's hips and he digs his nails into the unblemished skin, setting a slow but fluid pace as he plunges in and out of the heat of the brunet's body.  
  
Skin slapping against skin fills the silence that is only interrupted by the sound of the moans that resonate off the walls and deep into the blond's eardrums. Rafinha, who is obviously the more experienced out of the two, swivels his hips in tiny circles as he presses back against Marc and meets him halfway each time.  
  
"Fuck me like you mean it, Marquinho.." Those plumps lips spew as he slams his hips back against the blond's; the German can barely choke out a grunt as he trails a hand up the back of the brunet, scraping along the raised bumps of his spine, making him shudder slightly. "P-please.." He weakly mutters and that little plea is enough to send the blond into a sultry haze.  
  
One pale hand maintains a steady grip on those tanned hips while the other finds its way to the back of the brunet's throat, holding him there and in place, before pressing his face into the cushion of the couch. Strangled moans emanate from the brunet but there are no signs of obvious discomfort as he shifts his head so his cheek is pressed forcefully into the cushion, chest heaving, and breath coming out in little pants as he struggles to keep up with Marc's powerful thrusts.  
  
Each thrust grants a deep grunt as he plunges within the Brazilian's receptive body, cerulean eyes focused on the way the male undulates his hips back against his own, the sharp sound of slapping skin increasing in volume as he gains momentum. "Is this how you want it?" Marc grunts out as he angles his hips slightly and sharply thrusts forward, the brunet slamming back as he does so, and he hears a pleasured sob echo from the brunet and notes the way his head vigorously nods from its awkward angle.  
  
"M-marc.. Eu não posso.. Rápido você.. Rápido vai me fazer.. Continue indo.. Eu preciso de mais.. Só assim.. Vou.. Eu vou.."  
  
Is the broken Portuguese that assaults the blond's eardrums as he leans forward until his chest is pressed flush against the latter's toned back, burying him deeper than before with the new-found angle. Both exhale in the form of a moan at the change of pace, and the blond slinks a hand around the Brazilian's waist in favor of stroking him out of time with the earnest movement of his hips.  
  
"Cum, Rafael.."  
  
And almost on whim, with a harsh snap of Marc's hips, the brunet does and the hand on his neck presses his cheek deeper into the couch cushion. But the blond's hips don't relent even though the twist of his wrist on the brunet's cock stutters slightly. The tightness is unbearable and he can't hold on any longer as he follows suit with a few erratic thrusts of his hips until he's buried deeply within the tight, hot heat that engulfs him.  
  
Marc releases his hold on the brunet in favor of peppering open-mouthed kisses along the back of his perspired neck, nipping at the base of his spine, too spent for anything else as he stills the thrusting of his hips. The initial burst of white in his vision increases until all he can see is stark alabaster, his lids clenching tightly shut, as he plasters his sweaty chest against the Brazilian's back.  
  
His hips still weakly twitch with the force of his orgasm as he revels in the sensation of the high that fills his veins and fogs his brain with pure, unadulterated bliss. Everything is tranquil in that moment; the way his chest rises and falls against the back of the brunet's back, how the brunet still presses readily back against him, the musky scent that fills the air.  
  
"You're kind of heavy.." Mutters the Brazilian after a moment with a breathless chuckle, glancing at the awkward angle back at the blond.  
  
"Oh, fuck—I'm so sorry.. I didn't—Sorry." Marc splutters his response as he reluctantly withdraws from the male with a soft sigh from the brunet and rights himself on the couch. He stares wearily at the hand that is soiled in the milky release of the Brazilian and glances around for something to cleanse his hand with.  
  
Rafinha notices and coughs awkwardly, scratching at his reddened cheek that is imprinted with the couch cushion. "Hold on, I have something for that." He murmurs with an amused grin as he hesitantly stands from the couch and awkwardly limps towards where he has a box of tissues, pulling at a few, and offering it to the blond.  
  
"I didn't hurt you, right? Are you okay? I didn't mean to—That's not like me, it's just—"  
  
"It's just been a while, Marquinho, don't flip out on me now. Keep it together, will you?" Rafinha rolls his eyes and snatches up another tissue as well as a pen from somewhere on the small table to scribble something down onto it. He returns to the couch sits down uncomfortably, shifting this way and that, before finally offering the piece of tissue towards the blond: "It's my number I, uh, I figured we could do this again sometime? If that's okay with you?" The male, who appears uncertain of himself for the first time that night, scratches at the back of his neck and offers a hopeful grin.  
  
Marc glances around and spots a trashcan by the couch and discards the soiled tissues there before finally taking the tiny piece of tissue, lips twitching with hints of a smile. "So it was good then? My first time with a guy was a success? It was for me, definitely, but it was good for you too?"  
  
"You smug bastard. It must have been good if I'm giving you my number, don't you think? I don't do that often, even if I am—well, y'know. You're something special."  
  
And the blond can only grin at that as he leans forward to brush a chaste kiss—which was seemingly peculiar after what the two had just done—to the brunet's lips, holding his chin between his fingers,thumb brushing affectionately against the reddened skin of his cheek. "The feeling is mutual. I, uh—I'll text you and you can come over? Whenever you're, y'know, off work. Maybe take you out on a date?"  
  
"After that phenomenal sex? I'll even leave early,"

**Author's Note:**

> It was filthy. 
> 
> I'm ashamed.
> 
> Don't judge me. xx


End file.
